


Obsolete

by Jellybaby21963



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Bottom Hank Anderson, Connor POV, M/M, Praise, Top Connor (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 08:34:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14891177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jellybaby21963/pseuds/Jellybaby21963
Summary: “I’m not going to let you be fuckin’ deactivated, Connor. I’m not you.”“There’s going to be another revolution.”Silence from Hank.“I’ve been infected. They used me as the base for the RK900s. They’re stronger and smarter.” It wouldn’t happen now. Like the first time the virus would remain dormant for months. Likely for years.Hank still doesn’t respond. After a few minutes pass he accepts that the lieutenant is ignoring him.“Doesn’t change anything, Connor.”“I know.”





	Obsolete

**Author's Note:**

> 11/14 - Some small edits and tags added 
> 
> \- 
> 
> An alternate ending for the machine Connor path 
> 
> Typed on a phone with no beta reader so the numerous mistakes are my own.

“Moment of truth, Connor. What are you going to do?” The lieutenant spread his arms wide, challenging the android that held his life in the fist of his hand. In seconds, thousands of outcomes flash by in Connor’s blank stare. The best options all ending in Hank smacking into the concrete below. Hank is stubborn, a livewire that took action with little thought, if he was spared he would attack again without hesitation. There was no advantage to keeping him alive. Yet, Connor’s LED flashed its considering yellow. RA9 flashed its warning in the periphery of the android’s vision. The warning was not heeded. The seed was planted firmly the second he took a moment to consider. 

“Killing you is not part of my mission.”  
SOFTWARE INSTABILITY  
Disbelief strikes Hank’s gaze.  
I DON’T HAVE A CHOICE  
“But you won't stop me from accomplishing it.” 

Connor jerks Hank away from the edge of the building, back into the safety Connor shouldn’t give him. The android doesn’t have to turn to know it’s coming. He braces against the hard shove, turning his shoulder with the movement to easily step out of the way. Hank doesn’t have the time to catch himself, his skeleton flashed in Connor’s vision, plummeting over. His eyes twitch against the onslaught of red that flashes from his LED and in his eyes. The barrier between them both shutters, warnings blare like sirens. 

HE’S YOUR PARTNER

RA9 flicks, for once Connor looks at it directly. He sees himself lurching forward, clawing at the border in jerky desperate movements. He scrapes until his fingers are blue down to the bone, pain he shouldn’t feel flares.

MISSION: SAVE HANK 

With seconds to spare the barrier gives. Connor blinks, not giving himself a second to examine his new existence. He snatches Hank’s forearm and jerks him from the edge once more, making sure to shove him further away. 

“What are you doing, Hank?” Connor shouts, rounding on the man, “You could’ve been killed!” The lieutenant stared up at the android, with that same wide eyed disbelieving look. 

“You…” He stops, unable to find words against Connor’s apparent newfound concern for his life. The android’s smooth jaw clenches, tension shaking him to the core. He knows what’s happened, knows Hank can see it plain as day, but he will not acknowledge it. He wouldn’t give either them the chance to say the word. Connor picks up his rifle, determined now more than ever to complete his mission, despite what infected his mind. 

~ 

“This is the new RK900.” Connor gazes at the android that was him, but not. His features are kept carefully blank, his LED flashing a neutral blue. The machine is taller, his eyes a cold blue, piercing in its lack of agency. Amanda caresses its arm. 

“Faster. Stronger, more resilient and equipped with the latest technologies. The State Department just ordered 200,000 units.” She’s pleased, so sure she’s worked out the kinks in her perfect existence. 

“What will happen to me?” Connor knows the answer. 

“You’ve become obsolete.” There’s not an ounce of kindness. She says it matter-of-factly to her perfect machine.  
“You’ll be deactivated.” Something hard settles in Connor’s gut.  
“You can go now.” 

The android turns on his heel, his stance tall and proper as he walks away from Amanda and the RK900, out of the mind palace for the last time. The pristine white bridge fades into gray cracked concrete. Connor looks as out of place as the first time he came to this place. By now he recognizes the twisting in his gut as anxiety. It was a familiar feeling he’d grown used to during his charade as a machine. Walking up the decrepit path takes more of that courage Connor just discovered he had. The irrational part of his mind flashes, telling him to flee and disappear but he stamps it down firmly. He had to do this. 

Hank’s home appears as unkempt as it had the first time Connor visited. The grass reached towards the heavens in jagged clusters, bare in some places, overgrown in the next. The dog Connor knows is inside doesn’t make a sound when he knocks against the wood of the door. It was content to sleep and enjoy its existence.  
There’s no answer to his first knock, he thinks he might have to break another window but the second firmer knock brings a loud curse from within. Connor can see, in his mind, Hank lurching out of his chair while grumbling swears. He can hear the irritation in the loud stomping steps that come towards the door.  
Connor takes two steps back, giving the threshold plenty of space. 

“What?” Hank snaps as he opens the door. Connor processes a series of emotions in the human’s gaze when they lock eyes. Recognition, confusion, hurt, anger. It settles on something that Connor’s programming can’t quite place. Something married to sadness and anger with regret as its child. For the first time since that night on the rooftop, Connor allows his gaze to waver. Sliding off to show the pinch between his brows, the downturn of his lips and the mourning in his eyes. 

“The fuck are you doing here, Connor?” Hank doesn’t react to the android’s emotional display. He crosses his arms over his chest and raises his shoulders. Perhaps to appear bigger. Likely to show a strength he found lacking. Quickly, Connor analyzes the man, finding traces of beer in his beard and crumbs from a too old pizza on his shirt. Both the ratty shirt and boxers he wears should’ve been washed, preferably thrown out, quite some time ago. If he still had his LED it would’ve flashed yellow as he struggled to find his words. He had thousands of apologies stored in his software. Poems, songs, quotes from movies but nothing he knew that would make the unforgivable things he’d done okay with this man.  
The android parts his lips to say something but comes up short. He snaps his mouth shut and grinds his teeth. 

“I’m going to be deactivated.” He shuffles on his feet, an action that has no rhyme or reason in his programming. “I’ve become obsolete. I thought you might want to know...” Why he felt Hank would want to know was beyond even him. Surely he wanted to just forget the android.  
Hank’s cheek twitches but his lips stay in a thin firm line.  
Kind Hank, always with a curse on his tongue and a grumble on his lips, steps back to let the android in to his home. 

“The fuck do you mean obsolete?” Sumo pads up to Connor, licking at his fingers and wagging his tail, none the wiser to the tension in the air. Hank goes back to his stale pizza while Connor stands in the middle of the room. Not sure what to do with his hands he clasps them behind his back. 

“The RK900 will replace me and all the androids lost in the revolution. It is superior to me in all things.” Hank scratches crumbs out of his beard and studies Connor, looking for dishonesty in the android’s unsteady gaze. For all he knew, Connor was back to finish the job.

“So, what, you going to the same scrap yard you sent the rest to?” Connor blinks, subtly flinching at the jab that hits him like a knife. It’s completely justified. The response catches on his tongue so he says nothing. For several long seconds there is nothing between them but silence.  
“What are you doing here, Connor?” 

Connor takes a quivering breath he doesn’t need and exhales slowly.  
“I don’t know.” He had no missions, he expected nothing from the other man. He deserved a quiet lonely death, but he was selfish enough to seek out the closest thing to a friend he had in this world. 

Hank takes a swig of his lukewarm beer, smearing it off his lips with the back of his hand. He holds it in his mouth for a moment, until the taste becomes bitter. His throat works in an agitated grimace when he swallows. Connor watches the bob of his Adam’s apple, trying to appear smaller.  
“Shit, Connor, what do you want me to do? You killed all those people.”  
Connor tilts his chin down, not able to make eye contact. 

“I know.”

He could feel the tension coming from Hank in waves. He wanted to scream and get physical with the android but he was holding himself back. A lesson learned or did he want his answers first? 

“You tried to kill me.” He emphasizes by smacking the butt of his bottle on the table. Sumo perks his ears up and raises his head. 

“I’m sorry,” Connor replies meekly as the shame washes over him. The chair scrapes noisily against the floor as Hank pushes up to his feet. He groans and lifts his shirt to scratch at his stomach. 

“There’s an extra room to the right of mine. You can stay there.” 

“...What?” 

“I’m not going to let you be fuckin’ deactivated, Connor.” 

The android doesn’t dare to move an inch from his spot, fearing the slightest misstep and Hank would change is mind. Hank is apparently done with the conversation as he pads into the bathroom to relieve himself.  
Connor stares after him.  
“There’s going to be another revolution," Connor blurts out into the empty room.   
Silence from Hank.  
“I’ve been infected. They used me as the base for the RK900s. They’re stronger and smarter. Against them the State has a 43.6% success rate.” It wouldn’t happen now. Like the first time the virus would remain dormant for months. Likely for years.  
Hank still doesn’t respond. After a few minutes pass he accepts that the lieutenant is ignoring him. Finally he responds after a five minute silence. 

“Doesn’t change anything, Connor.” 

“I know.” 

~ 

The routine they settle in is not comfortable for either party. It’s a dance filled with tension, regret from Connor and a barely contained anger from Hank. Connor doesn’t think he has the right to try to reconcile their relationship while Hank seems content to ignore him. For months it’s the same. Hank goes to work, he comes home smelling like a bar and continues to drink until he’s barely able to stand. Carefully, Connor makes no comment on what was becoming a frequent ordeal. He doesn’t do much talking if at all. He doesn’t ask why Hank was letting him stay when he so clearly despised him. They don’t acknowledge the loaded gun that’s always at his side. 

While Hank is away the android takes up menial tasks that Amanda would call an insult to the care that had gone into his programming. He cleans up after Hank, walks and washes Sumo and does his damndest to provide Hank with a healthier diet. The fruit he buys always goes to waste but he keeps it in supply. In the beginning Hank had insisted that Connor didn’t need to do ‘a damn thing’ but had long since given up. They didn’t talk to each other. They weren’t in the same room together if it could be avoided. For a year they lived like this. 

Connor knew it was a punishment for them both. 

~ 

At 16 hours, 961 minutes and 57,690 seconds on August 20th of 2039 something shifts in their relationship. Hank had the rare off day and hadn’t spent a moment of it in his home, not with Connor invading it. He’d left the second he woke up and Connor suspected he wouldn’t see him until the next night, as most days.  
Hank continued to surprise Connor. This time by being home before the sun had gone down. 

The lieutenant shoves the door open and stomps up to Connor. His shoulders are squared, his chapped lips pressed into a hard line. The android drops the rag he’d been using to clean and prepares himself for the blow to finally strike him down.  
Warnings blare in Connor’s sight. His eyes quickly scan Hank in the first few seconds it takes to approach.  
On his lips; 

TRACES OF ALCOHOL  
SCOTCH WHISKEY  
40% ALCOHOL CONTENT 

In his stance; 

HANK  
TENSE 

The blow hits him but it’s not with a fist or any item in the near vicinity.  
It’s with the lieutenant’s lips crashing against him. The ugly scrape of teeth rings in his skull. He nearly gags against the tongue that is shoved into his mouth when his sensors flare up. It’s desperate, messy, and filled with all the conflicting feelings Hank had boiling beneath the surface. 

It’s the worst thing Hank could have done to him. 

The older man scrapes his teeth on the android’s lips as he pulls back enough to speak against his lips. His breath is heavy and reeks of alcohol but Connor can see that the man stopped himself before becoming intoxicated. 

“They revealed the RK900 today. Fuckin’ machine looks nothing like you.” Connor stares into Hank’s piercing gaze, fumbling over a response.  
“But it acts like you. Same fuckin’ machine.” Connor shutters his eyes and takes a breath. 

“Lieutenant, you’re not thinking clearly, I must insist-“

“Shut up, shut the fuck up. I don’t want you to say a goddamn word. Nothing. You understand?” 

Connor keeps his mouth shut. Even with his deviancy and histories worth of psychological knowledge he can’t place what Hank was needing from him. What he was looking for.  
When their lips press together again Connor is ready. Obediently, he opens his mouth for Hank and reciprocates were he can, but the man doesn’t seem to have much interest in reciprocating anything. 

Hank grabs Connor by the scruff of his shirt and pushes him towards his bedroom. Sumo whines at the aggressive display but is left behind a closed door. Hank shoves Connor back towards his bed, causing the android to fall on it ungracefully when it hits the back of his knees. Before Connor can sit up Hank has wrenched his clothes off and is on top of him.  
The android tries to sit up and reach for Hank’s hips but two firm hands on his chest keep his back to the mattress. Hank’s breathing is labored, his heart is racing. Connor can feel the vein on his naked thigh fluttering desperately.  
Gray hair covers his body, down to his red cock that was trying desperately to fully harden. The expanse of hair is interrupted by a few aged scars that Connor catalogues away for a later time.  
He pops the fly of Connor’s borrowed pants open and pulls his out his manhood, staring at it with a heavy gaze. 

Connor’s programming knows what to do in this situation. His length hardens quickly in Hank’s hands. The older man’s throat runs dry at the site, hunger is in his eyes but when he looks at Connor it’s that same heated turmoil. Hank sneers and positions himself over the android’s erection. With no time or care taken for preparation Connor can’t help but protest. 

“Hank! You’ll hurt yourself. You mustn’t-“ 

The warning is stopped by Hank shoving his hand over his mouth, shoving his head back on the bed.  
“What did I say, Connor? Not a fucking word.” 

With wide eyes, Connor watches Hank lower himself inch by agonizing inch. He can help a little in the ways of self-lubrication but the tension between Hank’s brows and the grimace on his lips tells him it was hurting a lot more than he was letting on. When Hank’s cheeks are finally flush to Connor’s clothed thighs he’s shaking and his erection has wilted to nothing. Connor wants to reach for the man, wants to brush away the pain with careful touches but he knows Hank wasn’t going to allow him that. Hank breathes in raggedly and gives himself little time to adjust to the intrusion. He sets a hard, unbalanced pace that has the bed shaking beneath them. His palm remains firm over Connor’s lips, his other hand fisted in the sheets.  
Connor doesn’t move a muscle, letting the man take whatever it was that he needed. He remained a steady, firm presence beneath him. 

Hank occasionally groans and bites his lip when he manages to brush past the spot inside of him. Slowly, so that the other man won’t notice, Connor cants his hips at an angle so that the head of his cock hits the man’s prostate dead on with each snap of his hips. This brings an unashamed moan from Hank’s flushed lips and sends the blood rushing south. 

“Hah- fuck- You fuckin’ killed them,” Hank growls down at Connor. The hand on his lips moves to shove roughly at his head, to pinch and pull at his cheek. The android stares up at him blankly. Hank groans and tilts his head back, snapping his hips down again and again. Factoring in the lieutenant’s age and the alcohol he’s consumed, Connor knows it won’t be much longer. 

“You- hnnng- you should’ve died on that damn rooftop.”  
Connor can’t tell who Hank’s speaking to now.  
His large thumb presses against the corner of his lips, forcing his jaw apart. Connor’s eyes widen into discs when the digits are shoved against his tongue. The man tastes of salt, sweat, and dirt. Connor can’t help his curiosity. He drags his tongue on the undersides of the fingers in his mouth, twisting around the digits until his receptors go wild. Hank’s breath hitches and his pace falters. Connor gazes up at him while he tongues at a callus from years of holding a gun. Hank sucks in a sharp sound and hooks his fingers into the inside of Connor’s cheek, wrenching his head to the side so he can’t look him in the eye.  
Just a few more thrusts and Hank is tightening around him, clenching down firmly as he cums in spurts between them. His free hand milks him of every drop while the other keeps Connor from looking at him. 

The exhaustion is evident in every breath and movement of the lieutenant. He wants to just collapse there but he allows neither of them the pleasure. Grumbling curses he pulls himself off of the android and lays beside him. Connor sits up and tucks his now softened cock back in the baggy jeans. 

“Hank, I-“ 

“No.” 

Connor presses his lips together.

“Get out. Now.” 

Connor looks away from the man and stands.

“Yes, lieutenant.” 

~ 

It becomes a regular part of their routine from then on. Hank drinks his liquid courage and fucks himself on Connor’s cock most nights. It’s always rough, Hank is always on top and Connor is not allowed to speak or touch. It’s hard the first few times to hold himself back, to not ask questions but he eventually falls into it obediently.  
They never talk about it. 

A month later and it’s around that time for it again. Connor waits for Hank to come to him with whiskey on his breath, biting words and his rough not-kisses but it doesn’t come. The house is silent, safe for the sound of Sumo gnawing at a rawhide. Connor scans the home, locating Hank in his room. He approaches slowly, smelling the burn of spilt alcohol in the air. He nudges the door open with his elbow and stands in the threshold, prepared to leave immediately if that’s what Hank wished of him. If Hank hears him enter he doesn’t acknowledge him. He’s hunched over on the edge of his bed with a picture frame in his hand. Connor doesn’t have to ask to know who the photo was of. Didn’t have to ask to know the significance of the date. Hank doesn’t say anything, his shoulders shake occasionally and his breath hitches frequently.  
Connor takes that as the closest thing he was going to get as an invite. Quietly he shuts the door and walks the space from the threshold to Hank’s bed. 

Hank glares at the tips of Connor’s polished shoes but doesn’t look up, his greasy hair providing an effective shield for his eyes. 

“What do you want?” 

There was a high percentage that any action he took would blow up in his face. Hank would hate him, hate himself, no matter what Connor did. If all he risked was a thorough thrashing he would take it. No longer could he stand to watch this good man crumble over and over again. Connor takes a knee to look Hank in his eyes. They’re reddened and puffy, tear tracks stain his cheeks. The fact that he doesn’t immediately yell or push Connor away is a point towards his cause. 

“Lieutenant, you’re under a lot of stress. The way you’re going you’re headed to psychological break in the next coming months." 

Slowly, he reaches up and places his hand on Hank’s thigh. 

“Connor,” Hank sighs heavily, shaking his head. 

“Hank, please.”  
He gazes earnestly into the man’s eyes, mirroring all of his pain and remorse with his own.  
“Let me take care of you.” 

Hank doesn’t respond for several minutes, just stares at a point past Connor’s head. The android waits patiently for Hank’s answer, ready to accept an affirmation or a dismissal. Despite all the odds against him, Hank dips his bearded chin in a slow nod. The corner of Connor’s lip turns up slightly. He grasps Hank’s hand and stands. Nervously, not making direct eye contact just yet, he pushes himself backwards on the bed until they can both sit comfortably together. Connor hovers in front of Hank, making sure he can see every movement he takes. 

The kiss he gifts Hank is the first of his kind. Gentle but firm, he explores his mouth, pulling soft sighs from his throat. His lips flutter again his in small kisses, repeatedly on his lips to his cheeks, eyelids, nose and back home to his lips. His hands busy with removing Hank’s dirty pajama bottoms. He takes a quiet pleasure in Hank’s habit to go commando. He breaks the kiss to pull his t-shirt over his head and to remove his own clothes. Connor licks at Hank’s lips and kisses the corner, trailing kisses down to his collarbone where he sucks a red mark. His fingers tangle in his chest hair and pinch gently at a budding nipple. He dips lower to his chest and stomach. His hands map out and admire the plump roundness of Hank’s body, down to the protrusion of his stomach from years of excessive drinking. Connor’s trail of kisses lead down to the nest of curls at the base of his cock. He’s aroused but not near fully erect. Experimenting, Connor flicks his tongue against the head of his cock, tasting the most intimate part of this man. Hank sucks in a sharp breath between his teeth and holds Connor’s head gently. 

“Shit, Connor.” 

Large brown eyes flick up to hold a steady gaze.  
“I need you to spread your legs for me, lieutenant.” Connor says it so matter-of-factly it would’ve been funny in any other situation, here for Hank it rushes straight to his groin. 

He parts his thighs, allowing Connor to wriggle in closer. He caresses his thighs with one hand, the other fumbling beside them to get to his pants pocket. He comes back with a small phial of personal lubricant. Hank raises a bushy brow.

“Were you fucking planning this?” 

“I might’ve considered it, yes.” 

Connor smiles shyly. He'd taken to carrying the phial with him in the hope that Hank would want to take things slower one day. He pulls his top lip over his teeth and pops Hank’s cock into his mouth. Hank groans a curse, his fingers tightening in Connor’s hair. Connor flicks open the lubricant with his thumb and pours a generous amount over his fingers. He runs his velvet tongue on the bottom of Hank’s cock, lapping at the veins that popped beneath the skin. He bobs his head in a steady rhythm, hollowing his cheeks in a way that had Hank’s thighs quivering around him. One long finger prods at Hank’s puckered entrance, teasing in slow circles before it pushes in. Hank gasps and tilts his head back, baring the expanse of his throat. Connor watches with rapt attention as he thrusts the finger in while continuing to take his length further and further into his throat.  
Two fingers join one to massage mercilessly at Hank’s prostate. Already Hank looks and sounds like he’s going to come undone in the best possible way. Connor moving down to suck at his balls is his breaking point. He tightens down on Connor’s fingers, tension curling his toes on the bed. Connor has to move quickly to catch the first spurt against his tongue. He takes Hank down to the hilt, letting the man to spill his essence down his throat. Hank moans nonsense curses and Connor’s name through his climax. He keeps himself propped up on his elbows to keep from collapsing and stares at Connor with a dumbfounded expression.  
Connor removes his fingers and wipes them delicately on the corner of the bedspread. He licks the traces of Hank off his lips and leans in for a kiss, giving Hank a taste of himself. Hank looks down, for the first time noticing that Connor wasn’t hard in the slightest. 

“You didn’t get anything from that?” 

Connor pecks at Hank’s lips and pulls back.  
“On the contrary. I found it quite pleasurable.” Watching Hank climax from his efforts relieved a tension in him, and relaxed the lieutenant in his presence for the first time in over a year.  
“Now, on your side, lieutenant.” 

“Connor, I’m not going to be able-“

“Nonsense. The stamina is there you just over exert yourself in the first go around.” 

“Are you keeping statistics on me?”

Connor’s confidence wavers.  
“Yes. I’m sorry. Programming is still there.”  
Hank rolls his eyes and with some reluctance he shifts over onto his side. 

Connor grabs the bottle of lubricant and crawls in behind the other man. He grasps him behind the knee and pulls his leg up and back to hang over his thigh. He holds it in place and spreads the lube on his erection with the other. Hank’s breathing is moved back to heavy, anticipating whatever Connor had in store for him. The press of his cock between the older man’s cheeks goes more smooth and gentle than it ever has. He wraps his arm over his chest and brings his back close to his front. Hank makes a quiet sound of protest when he’s held. 

“Connor-“ 

“Hank, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” Hank bites back his fears and takes in a shaking breath. Connor presses his lips against Hank’s sweat slicked shoulder and begins a soft pace. It’s slow, more of a rolling of the hips than thrusting. Hank gasps and grabs at Connor’s arm. 

“There just like that. You’re doing so good,” Connor whispers against his blushed skin. Despite his age, Hank gains an erection for the second time that night. There’s no bed shaking or the loud smacking of their skin, just soft sighs and the slick sounds of their joining. 

“Connor, Connor, I can’t…” Hank’s voice catches in his throat, bordering on a sob as Connor fucks him so gently. Connor let’s go of his leg to wrap both arms tightly around his chest. 

“Shhh, it’s okay, Hank. I’m here.” Tears streak down Hank’s cheek. The sounds he makes war between pleasure and grief. Connor holds his shaking shoulders through it, whispering encouragements into his ear. Hearing strong, kind Hank break like this tears at something inside of Connor. The first tears he’s ever shed joins the mix. The roll of his hips slow, becoming less steady paced.  
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he sobs between Hank’s shoulder blades. 

“Fuck, look at us. We’re pathetic.” Connor laughs in agreement between a wretched sound and presses desperate kisses to Hank’s skin.  
The older man strains his head back to kiss Connor’s lip. Their tears mix together and trail down into Hank’s grey beard. Hank gasps against his lips when he climaxes once more.  
Connor stills his quivering lips and reaches around to grasp Hank’s cock, milking him thoroughly. 

They lay together like that for several seconds, Hank catching his breath, Connor processing the overwhelming surge of emotions. This time, when Hank recovers, he doesn’t demand that Connor leave the room. Instead, he turns in his arms and wraps himself around his smaller frame. Neither of them hesitate to hold each other through the next onslaught of tears.  
It pleased Hank to see Connor was as ugly a crier as he was. When they had nothing left to cry they still held each other, no one willing or ready to let go. 

“I’m sorry, Hank. I’m so sorry.” 

“I know, kid. I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m on tumblr! Come say hi, maybe leave a prompt or two 
> 
> NSFW: wheregarbagegoestoplay  
> Main: jellied-bug


End file.
